


Of Conjuring Cats and Curious Tuggers

by Mehooleygan



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: (Maybe more serious later on), Friendship, Gen, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Injuries, Sick Fic, or rather, sick chapter?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2020-08-13 05:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20168854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mehooleygan/pseuds/Mehooleygan
Summary: “So tell me, kitten. How do you know Macavity’s magic?”The last thing the Rum Tum Tugger expected to find during a casual, everyday stroll was a strange cat who, not only seemed to have the magic of the Jellicle's greatest enemy but his blood too.Never one to do the done thing, Tugger decides to help the little tuxedo to hide from his father's nefarious gang whilst also protecting him from any Jellicle's paranoid prejudice.But Macavity is strong, vile and not known for giving up. And what would the others say if they knew who they were letting into their homes, or of the danger he brings?





	1. Little Tux

**Author's Note:**

> So I have occasionally started fics before but never finished them and never posted them and I've also never written a fic for this fandom either. 
> 
> But, hey, I have loved this musical for years now and, with the new film coming out, I figured now's the best time, right? 
> 
> So...yeah. I honestly wouldn't blame you for not liking this work and since I've never gotten feedback on a fic before, I honestly don't even know how good my writing actually is. Therefore, comments would reallllly be appreciated. Anything from 'That line is out of character,' to 'you've written taht instead of that on the third line' :D (Or even something a little bit more positive but who knows). If anyone has any ideas or suggestions then that would also be really cool. 
> 
> I am really lousy at time management though so don't be too optimistic with updates but I will try to keep on track and maybe even finish a fic for the first time ever. 
> 
> Happy reading guys :)
> 
> (ALSO HOW DOES ONE COME UP WITH TAGS??! XD)

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” 

The little tux cat turned in horror at the voice of the much bigger feline now approaching.  
“Pl-please, I-” he tried to explain, or to beg, but was cut off. 

“That’s a cute little trick you got there,” His tone, menacing. “Only one cat I know with magic like that.” 

“No, I was just-”

“So tell me, kitten. How do you know Macavity’s magic?” 

***  
Tugger was a prowler, a wander. Every cat in the tribe knew that it was completely conceivable for the large cat to disappear for days at a time, stalking through the junkyard, eventually returning with a largely exaggerated tale of heroics to tell the younger kits and queens. So, yes, this little strolling of his was not unexpected. What was unexpected, however, was the sight of another little cat, one not from his tribe, in his junkyard. 

He happened upon him - a slightly younger tom by the looks of things - completely by chance and immediately ducked under a piece of scrap metal. He elected to watch the cat for a moment, try and work out his motives or if there were others around. 

His second surprise of the day came after less than 2 minutes gazing at the intruder. He had been expected a member of an opposing tribe or even one of Maccavity’s henchmen. Someone trying to spy on them, leering and lurking around the place, stealing Jellicle secrets. But what he saw was a little tux that was just as young as he first appeared - barely out of kittenhood - crouched and shaking. Cold and lost. 

Say what you want about the Rum Tum Tugger. He is a flirt, a heartbreaker; extroverted and vain. But not heartless. Never heartless. Not when he saw those big, glazed eyes and trembling shivers. He knew he couldn’t let the tux stay here alone, to freeze or to starve. So, concluding that he wasn’t a threat to the tribe, the larger cat stood and shook out his mane, determined to invite the cat back to the Jellicle home. Then immediately ducked back into place. Whilst he’d been rising, the black cat had also risen from his crouch to glance - suspiciously if Tugger does say so himself - around the place. Then, unable to spot Tugger’s hiding place and concluding - incorrectly - that he was alone, the stranger raised a paw and -

Oh.  
‘This is interesting’ thought Tugger, noting the light glow of the campfire which had appeared in a rain of glitter, as if by magic, where the tux had cautiously gestured.  
Well, now he had to take the stranger back to the tribe. It was practically his duty - a word which Tugger thoroughly detested - to bring this issue to Old Deuteronomy and the ever-responsible Munkustrap. He couldn’t imagine the potential damage a conjuring cat could cause if he was left alone to be approached and manipulated by the current torment of the tribe: Macavity. That is if they hadn’t already be acquainted. After all, there weren’t many cats who had that kind of magic. Where else could this little cat have learned it but from the criminal mastermind himself?

Well. Why not ask him?

***

“So tell me, kitten. How do you know Macavity’s magic?” 

The little tux looked up at the larger cat from where he’d pressed himself down against the floor.  
“I’m not a threat,” he finally mumbled. As if to prove his point, the little fire he started suddenly sputtered and died leaving both cats to bear the cold once more. 

“Unfortunately for you, that’s exactly what a cat intending to harm the tribe would say.” A small part of the maine coon urged to give in to those big kittenish eyes, tinted with fear, but he fought back. “AND, you have yet to ask who Macavity is, which makes me think that you already know. Maybe you’re here on his orders. Are you a little spy, Tux?” 

“Everyone’s heard of Macavity,” the cat murmured looking away, “and I assure you, I have no intention of doing anything for that monster. Especially not something that would harm other cats.” 

A moment of silence. One large, maned predator slowly prowling around the tiny shaking frame - cold? Or fear? - of his tense little tuxedo prey.  
It wasn’t often that Tugger was faced with a serious situation such as this. Part of him wanted to get Munkustrap’s attention and just let his older brother make the decisions. He was the tribe protector after all. But somehow, that didn’t sit right with the flirt. He wanted to help and he feared that Munkustrap would see the stranger's secrets as a reason not to trust him. A reason to turn him away. Which might actually be a good point Tugger conceded, taking into account the cat’s refusal to meet his eye since Macavity was mentioned. 

“Come on, little Tux, what aren’t you telling me?” 

“Stop calling me Tux!” He jumped to his feet snarling, and Tugger perked up, the sudden show of a feisty personality catching his interest. 

“What should I call you then? What’s your name, Tux?” He made sure to put extra emphasis on the nickname. 

Well… there goes that spunk. In its place was a slight wince and faint murmur.  
Tugger didn’t even bother to speak. Instead, he just raised a single brow and hoped that look would be enough to encourage the cat to repeat himself. 

“My name… is Mistoffelees.” 

He seemed apprehensive, obviously expecting some big response from Tugger. One which he hadn’t yet received. 

“Give me a second,” Tugger responded earning himself a bewildered look. He began pacing though this time it was more contemplative than predatory. “I know I know that name. It definitely rings a bell.”  
He turned to the smaller cat who, once again, recoiled at the sudden movement.  
“Are you named after someone famous? Is that it?”

A shake of the head. 

“So… are YOU someone famous?” There was a slight aura of insult at the doubt and disbelief colouring his tone. 

Yet still, the reply was another shake of the head. 

“Right… errr … so are you-” 

“ - Macavity’s my father!” 

“Yeah okay. So Macavity is… wait what?” Tugger whirled around to stare at the terrified looking cat. And he should look terrified. Especially after dropping a bomb like that. This innocent-looking little tom, one that Tugger had even felt sorry for, was the son of the Jellicle's greatest enemy? Everlasting. 

He must have been lying earlier, right? When he said he wasn’t a spy? He had to have been.  
Only… a spy wouldn’t have said something so risky and so incriminating. Only, the tux was still quaking in fear and someone so small and terrified surely couldn’t be a part of such a nefarious group. Only, the closer Tugger prowled to that pitch fur (complete with some rather endearing sparkles that could only be the lingering echoes of magic) the more the maine coon could see through that fur, to the slightly bare patches and tell-tale signs of injuries tinged red with blood. 

He stopped, made a decision, turned to the other and said, “The Rum Tum Tugger.” 

That was... interesting. Nobody had ever flinched away from his name like that before. The moment of silence and look of confusion that followed made it clear that the tuxedo wasn’t expecting the words he just heard. 

“S-Sorry... what?” Mistoffelees’ voice was as small as his figure. 

“Rum Tum Tugger. At your service,” he gave a showman’s bow. 

“Then… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Tugger”


	2. Musty Flees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, now where are we going?” 
> 
> “Home. I’m going to introduce you to my tribe and, can I just say, they are going to love you, Sparkles!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can It be? Is this really?? A new chapter????
> 
> To be fair... I warned you that updates might not be very regular. AND I'm going back to Uni tomorrow so it'll take even longer :D 
> 
> Also I feel like this fic is gonna be very cliche. Like it's practically the same as soo many over Tugger/Misto fics online?? Oh well! Imma keep writing it anyway XD
> 
> I also have to point out that this chapter wouldn't have been possible without the motivation that came from the comments on the last chapter by mssrj_335, MouseMinionDuckLover and Lazulia (Holy moly I only just realised you wrote some of my fav cat fics on this site (hint hint everyone, check out Lazulia's stuff!!!!))   
So yeah... comments please XD
> 
> Happy reading!

“Come along now, Musty Flees,” Tugger gently bumped his shoulder into his newfound companion. 

“I told you my name is Mistoffelees! And where are you taking me anyway?” The smaller tom grumbled, having slowly become more at ease with the Maine coon during their short journey together. 

“Patience, little kit. We’re nearly there.” 

“I’m not a kit! I bet you’re not even that much older than me.” 

The mumbled complaint seemed to be ignored as the pair continued to make their way through the junkyard, dodging or occasionally leaping over stray piles of trash and discarded pieces of metal. 

Eventually, Tugger began to slow from his jaunty stride - one energetic enough to make him seem even younger than he accused the tux of being. Mistoffelees looked around in confusion, unsure as to why there were stopping at this particular point. It seemed like any other area of the yard, complete with its ensemble of forgotten treasures, the most notable of which was a large metal basin on a matching metal stand. A fire pit. 

Mistoffelees turned to Tugger, fully intending to ask what they were doing there but was promptly stopped in his tracks by the sudden dark haze which had overcome the air. Blinking his eyes clear and coughing through the layer of dust now coating his tongue, he looked up to see Tugger holding his paws aloft. Smirking, he clapped the two paws together, allowing more of the powdered coal he’d gathered from the pit to alight into the air. 

“What, the everlasting, is that for?” He asked, wary of his new acquaintance’s grin. 

“Why, Sparkles, this is your disguise.” 

***

“Are you sure this will work?” Mistoffelees ran his hands through his coat, sending up another cloud of coal dust. 

The two of them had spent a good long while running the dark substance through his already dark fur in an attempt to hide his shimmering traces of magic. They’d even go so far as to scoop up some of the paler coloured ash and packed layers of that onto his limbs in order to add white patches there (Misto didn’t see why that was necessary but Tugger was insistent on ‘jazzing up’ his appearance). 

The larger cat began tutting and swotting at the smaller’s hands to prevent more of the improvised disguise from being lost to the wind. 

“Now, now, Tux. Trust your Tugger.” 

He turned to walk away. A light scoff sounded from behind him followed by a murmured ‘my Tugger’. A moment later, a black patch appeared at the edge of his vision as his companion sped up to join him.  
Now, speaking clearly, the tuxedo asked: “So, now where are we going?” 

“Home. I’m going to introduce you to my tribe and, can I just say, they are going to love you, Sparkles!” 

“Yeah?” Mistoffelees replied with a wry smile, “Is that why I’m covered in this dust?” 

Tugger blanched at that, stumbling slightly but quickly righting himself, before stopping short and facing his companion.  
“Listen, Tux,’ he placed a paw on Misto’s shoulder, suddenly growing more serious, “I know they will love you, the REAL you. But in order to get to know the real you, we have to make sure they aren’t blinded by their fear of your father.” He tightened his grip in reassurances to prevent the smaller from looking away in guilt. “Speaking of which… have you come up with a name for your amazing new identity, yet?” 

The guilt melted away, replaced with a small smile.   
“I was thinking… maybe Quaxo?” 

The maine coon snorted, smothering a laugh behind his paw then reached over to nudge his companion around a piece of scrap metal, in the direction of the camp.   
“Quaxo? Well, if you’re sure?” 

“My father… Macavity… He obviously has a lot of henchcats, right? Well, there was this one tom, a long time ago and he was just… nice. Apparently he’d had some debts and Macavity made him work for him in return. Not many cats in that place were nice to me but he was. One day, he told me that he’d had a son, one who had died very young and that his name had been Quaxo.”

For a moment, the only sound was the gentle thud of their paws kicking up the yard’s dust as they walked. 

“Quaxo it is.”

*** 

Whilst the junkyard may seem like a Jellicle’s whole world, in reality, it was a pretty average size which means it wasn’t long before the pair neared the centre; the hub of the Jellicle tribe.

The walk had been pleasant. Mistoffelees’ understandable undercurrent of nerves had been carefully kept at bay by Tugger’s constant chatter. He never really said anything of great importance, merely rambling about anything and everything that caught his eye. In fact, he didn’t stop talking until he was cut off abruptly by another, much more serious voice. 

“Tugger? Where have you been?” 

The maine coon in question stepped forward with a casual smirk, subconsciously putting himself between the newcomer and his companion. 

“Oh just here and there, my dear brother.” 

However, Tugger couldn’t keep his brother’s attention misdirected forever. 

“Tugger… who’s that with you?” The silver tabby peered around the cat to get a glimpse of the stranger. 

Well best to get it over with.

“Munkustrap meet Quaxo. Quaxo meet Munkustrap. Brother meet friend. Friend meet… well, you get the idea.” He gestured between the two after stepping aside and using a gentle paw to nudge the nervous tuxedo towards the tabby. Taking note of the slight tremors still overwhelming the smallest cat, he decided that a little more guidance on his part was required. Swinging an arm over his friend, he addressed his brother again.  
“Munk, the Kit -“

“- I’m not a kit- ” 

“-The kit,” Tugger repeated ignoring the interruption, “is down on his luck. He needs a place to stay and I had a feeling that a bleeding heart like you wouldn’t want him just turned away, forced to suffer the dangers of the streets and the freezing cold all alone.”   
Perhaps he was laying It on a bit thick but he’d already become rather…attached to - or at least interested by - this little cat and he had no intention of watching him walk away any time soon. He wasn’t lying about his brother being a bleeding heart but his main priority was the protection of the Jellicles. If he feared that Mistoffelees was a danger then…  
“Well,” apparently the tabby had been making a decision whilst the other two had been growing steadily tenser in the silence, “we had better get him introduced to the rest of the tribe then.” 

***

Honestly, they had nothing to worry about. The Rum Tum Tugger couldn’t even really be surprised. The Jellicles loved Misto, or at least his disguise of Quaxo. The little tom’s only issue was that he seemed to find the sudden attention rather overwhelming. The young queens practically swarmed him, asking a continuous stream of questions without allowing time to answer (something he was rather grateful for actually since he still needed to actually create a believable backstory). At one point Tugger needed to physically escort him away from Jenny and Jelly who’s mothering instincts had been kicked into overdrive at the news of a young, homeless orphan seeking refuge. Tugger had been hovering on the edge of the crowd, beaming at the acceptance of his new friend but had quickly pushed his way forward when the older cats had started expressing their concern at the state of his fur and making as if to begin bathing the poor tom. 

“Come on, guys. Give him some room.” Tugger, once again, draped himself over Quaxo then waved the others out of the way as if the pair were celebrities. “You can interrogate the tom later after he’s had some rest.” 

“Tugger,” Munkustrap help up his hand to prevent the two walking away, “we need to decide where he is going to stay before he can rest there!” 

Jenny clambered to her feet. “I suppose we might be able to find room in with the kits? It might be a bit of a squeeze though and I’m not sure quite how he’ll fare with all the queens,” she cast her eyes over to the crowd of youths who were torn between gazing up at Tugger in admiration or at the newest member in curiosity. 

“What about Pounce, Tumble and Plato?” Alonzo suggested with a look of consideration, breaking his previous silence from where he’d watched the introductions beside Munk.

The three young toms in question sat up with looks of glee, having recently moved from the kitten’s den into one of their own and excited at the prospect of a mysterious new denmate.   
This excitement faded slightly when the tribe’s self-appointed rockstar cat let out a chuckle. 

“Come on, guys. The solution is right in front of you,” Tugger exclaimed. Then, at the confusion this created, continued, “obviously, the tux is staying with me.”


	3. Confessions of a milk-a-holic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys...  
It's been a hot second. To be fair though, I did warn y'all I'd be taking my time now I'm back at uni. The funny thing is that the majority of this chapter's been done a while but it took me ages to do the last little bit. But, hey, have an extra-long chapter as an apology?? This was literally just supposed to be a little filler but whelp. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter guys :) and don't forget to comment because I really appreciate them and love reading them so much!!  
Speaking of which, my thanks to MALULU201013, MouseMinionDuckLover and AmethystLabyrinth for their comments on the last chapter! Those little interactions show that there's someone out there enjoying the story and it's super motivational to me!!  
Thanksss!! 😘

It was always strange how quickly a new ‘norm’ arrived; how quickly one’s routine could be changed, shaken up, but then settle into its new form. Admittedly, Tugger still woke up at a similar time (alone) and still allowed his own sweet time for waking up and stretching every muscle in his lithe body before slowly heading out into the warm sun. But this was where the divergence began. Only 3 weeks earlier, Tugger’s next move would have been to merely wander around until he finds something to temporarily entertain him then get bored enough to give up and nap or wander away from the yard for a while. 

But now, he had a purpose, a goal to aim for: finding Quaxo. 

Yes. The great Rum Tum Tugger; The prowler; The heartbreaker. Arguably the most independent cat in the tribe left his den every morning and the first thing on his mind was finding his newest - closest? - friend. This even topped his old priority of finding breakfast, now preferring to eat with his companion. 

So there he was. After scouring the area close to the den, he was heading towards one of the outer clearings that Quaxo was known to frequent on the days he awoke earlier than his denmate. It was a testament to how well he knew the tux that, after only a few weeks, he could already predict the other’s habit of practising his dancing in the light of the rising sun. And boy, could he dance. It was another one of the many reasons that he became adopted into the Jellicle tribe so quickly. In fact, his dancing was so beautiful that the sounds of the young queens’ excited chittering wasn’t enough to put a damper on the elation Tugger felt at those graceful spins and leaps. 

But, alas, his stomach could not wait forever. After its fourth growl in as many minutes, the maine coon approached his friend. Ignoring the stares and continuing whispers of the queens still huddled by a trash pile, Tugger called out: 

“Morning, Sparkles,” he waited for Quaxo to finish a complicated-looking spin and turn to face him, “Ready to go grab some food?” 

His joy only grew at the eager smile accompanying the nod he received.

A smile that froze, then dropped, at their next interruption. 

“Tugger,” As cute as little Etcetera could be, the tom’s teeth ground at the way she drew out the vowels in his name. “Why do you call Quaxo ‘Sparkles’ so often?” 

Because of his magic. Because of the sparks it causes. Because of the way it made his fur glitter and shine. Technically, this was true but he daren’t think about how quickly the older Jellicles could change their views of the little tux if their prejudices were given the chance to rear their ugly heads. Well… guess that leaves him no choice. 

“Well, just look at those eyes, girls.” Tugger grabbed Quaxo’s chin and gently turned his blushing face towards their audience. “Can’t you see how they twinkle?” There arose a chorus of ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahhhs’ as they pushed to each get a closer look at the irises in question. “I can’t be the only one here who feels the need to call attention to those gorgeous little sparkles at every possible moment?” 

Moving his arm to around Quaxo’s shoulder, Tugger gave a final smirk and left the girls discussing this new revelation and lead his companion away. 

Tugger, being Tugger, couldn’t let the silence sit for long. Something had to accompany the muted thuds of their steps and that something was him. 

“So… that was a close one?” 

“You need to be more careful, Tugs.” 

For a moment, the maine coon wanted to be insulted or even flinch at the sharp tint to that tone. But even he couldn’t deny that it was a good point. They had just come far too close to the rest of the tribe potentially suspecting Misto’s little secret and he knew that was something the other feared. So… yeah… careful. 

…but it wasn’t his fault that he always seemed to lose his senses in Mistoffelees’ presence.

“Come on, Twinkletoes,” his voice softened (determined to be more discreet with his future nicknames), “let’s go eat.” 

***

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two!”

‘Great’ thought Tugger. They hadn’t even had their breakfast yet, having been approached by Pouncavil the minute they entered the main clearing. 

“Here we are,” sighed Tugger, earning himself a sharp elbow to the side from Quaxo, no doubt a veiled demand for him to be nice to the other toms. 

“You’ll never guess what Tumble found earlier!” 

The excited beams on the young toms’ faces showed they obviously didn’t take offence to Tugger’s mood. In fact, they were so excited that they didn’t even pause to elaborate on Pounce’s statement and instead began eagerly tugging the two older toms away from the centre of the clearing. By the way the three kept glancing suspiciously around, it was clear that this was an attempt to evade Jenny, Jelly or any responsible adult cat likely to put an end to the risky (yet undoubtedly entertaining) enterprises of the youths. One which they were apparently roping Tugger and Quaxo into now. Interesting. 

Once they were at an adequate distance away (and hidden behind a few piles of junk) the two oldest of the toms were faced with three pairs of bright gleaming eyes. 

“Look at this!” Tumblebrutus pulled a large, glass bottle out from where it was stashed under a cardboard box. 

“Milk?” Tugger was too excited to present his usual cocky demeanour. It had been far too long since he’d last had the chance to taste that creamy, sweet joy. If he had to list his biggest weaknesses, one would definitely have to be that beautiful dairy goodness (the other is that quiet little laugh of Misto’s, the one with the disbelieving note as if he couldn’t imagine that this is his life now; that he’d really escaped Macavity and joined the Jellicles). 

Anyway, the maine coon was torn from his moment of pure delight when he turned to beam at Misto only to be faced with a poorly hidden look of confusion. 

“oh,” Tugger had just enough control to whisper in the tux’s ear so the others wouldn’t hear but he couldn’t refrain from a scandalised tone. “Have you really never drank milk?” 

Honestly, It shouldn’t be that surprising. One couldn’t exactly picture Macavity caring for a young kit, even if it was his own. 

“I know other cats drink it but nobody ever gave me any back… there.” 

He was expecting Tugger to say something more. He didn’t. Instead, he took the bottle of milk from Tumble’s defenceless grasp and merely smirked in the tux’s direction. 

This was going to be fun. 

***

This was not fun. 

Tugger, like most relatively young cats, was partial to a nice gentle nap after indulging in that dairy goodness. He didn’t appreciate being woken up before he was ready as something broke the peaceful silence of his den. He let out a light groan and grumpily clambered to his feet intent on locating whoever was responsible for his foul mood and making sure they bore the brunt of it. However, his frustration immediately ebbed away when, upon standing, a pained moan echoed through the space again. 

It took him less than a second between remembering his dark-furred den-mate and whirling around to check the other’s bed. There, he found a pile of black fur nestled, shivering, in a tangle of blankets. It was another second between him reaching the bed and Quaxo letting out more pained whimpers. 

“Quax! Quaxo? Hey,” Tugger reached over to lay a gentle paw on his shoulder and ease him onto his back to work out the problem. 

The only response was the continued groaning but now he could see how Mistoffolees’ face was also scrunched in pain. 

“Misto, what’s wrong?” He was tom enough to admit that, honestly, he was panicking; hands fluttering over the lightly writhing body causing him to notice the slightly feverish heat and trickles of sweat oozing from under Quaxo’s fur. 

Finally, a reply, though it was hardly reassuring. 

“Tuhr?” A slurred mimicry of his name accompanied by the desperate fluttering of lashes. “Wha’s ‘appning?” 

“Listen to me, Sparkles. What’s hurting? What feels wrong?” 

“m’ dizzy. M’ stomach ‘urts, Tugger.” 

Well at least he got the name right this time butthe rest of his speech was deteriorating in a way that sounded so out of place in the usually so well-spoken tuxedo’s mouth

“I gotta… gotta get you to Jenny’s.” Yeah. Jenny. She’ll know what to do. She’ll find out what’s wrong and fix him up. Yeah.Kitten steps. 

Step one: Get Misto to his feet. Easier said than done. Whilst murmuring soft reassurances to his companion, Tugger tried to ease two paws under Misto’s back then gently lift him into his maned chest. He almost dropped him straight back down though at another noise of pain. Tugger never thought it would physically hurt him like this to hear someone else make that sound. But the knowledge that he was the one worsening the smaller cat’s pain was almost too much to bear. Nevertheless, he had to do this to make sure the hurt stopped as soon as possible.

He’d barely taken two steps outside of the den, clutching his precious cargo to his chest when the younger kit seemed to awaken slightly only to start frantically pushing at Tugger’s chest. Panicked, Tugger could only watch, trying desperately not to drop him, as Misto managed to wriggle around to face the ground just in time to violently heave into the air. The maine coon crouched, frantic, and the feeling of helplessness worsened while Misto heaved and threw up all he’d eaten in the last day.Tugger waited until the pained-filled retching diminished into another fit of whimpers. Slowly, rubbing one paw gently against the magic cat’s back, he stood and started, once again, towards Jenny’s. 

***

“Lay him down here. Gently now!” 

True to her nature, Jenny went into full mothering-mode the minute she heard a kit’s (give or take a few moons) cry of pain. Immediately she had leapt towards them and began fluttering her hands over the incapacitated younger tom and yelling commands at the older. She set about analysing the tuxedo cat from beside the nest of blankets he’d been placed in. Her paws reached out, occasionally pushing against some part of the dark fur - slightly tacky with sweat - all the while whispering questions to her patient.

Tugger didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help his friend but knew realistically that the best he could do was give the older queen room to work. He stood back watching the scene and waiting, feeling sick with nerves. 

Eventually, Jenny pulled away and stood up. She gave her prone patient, one last critical eye then let out a slight sigh. 

“Rum Tum Tugger,” she turned to the cat in question, “correct me if I’m wrong…” 

Uh Oh. He didn’t like the sound of that. 

“Errr… yes, ma’am?” 

“Did you kits perhaps indulge in a certain, no doubt delicious, vice recently? Maybe one provided by some other mischievous young toms who get into more trouble than they’re worth?” 

Oh… 

“The milk?”

“The Milk.” A quiet whimper drew Jenny back to Quaxo’s side though there was little left to do except hover and grimace. “It seems little Quaxo is rather unlucky. I knew another cat like this once. He couldn’t drink milk. It was a real shame but, for some reason, the stuff made him awfully ill, poor thing. Your friend should be okay in a short while. Just let him rest and make sure he avoids any milk in the future. Cheese too, for that matter.”

The maine coon could only nod numbly. He couldn’t deny the guilty feeling that surged up, at war with the obvious relief; grateful that they knew this wasn’t too serious but couldn’t help feeling like he was part of the cause.

As Jenny puttered around, apparently satisfied that this case wasn’t dire enough to require her constant attention, Tugger tried to quietly back out of the den to give his friend the prescribed rest. Tried being the keyword there since he had barely made it half a step when a feeble grip to his wrist paused him. 

“Tugger?” As tired as he looked, Misto seemed to at least be aware enough to minimise his slurring. He gazed up with half-opened eyes and looked… surprising hopeful, past the sticky pallor of sickness sunk into his fur.

“Yeah, Sparkles?” It took a mere second before he was back, crouched beside his friend’s bedside. 

“I wanna go home now.” 

A desperate look to Jenny was met with an even stare and a clear nod of the head. 

Sliding two steady paws under the tux, Tugger met Quaxo’s eyes with a smile. 

“Okay. We’ll go home” 

The few cats that had elected to spend their afternoons lounging in the main centre of the junkyard would later testify that they had seen the tribe’s resident party cat carefully cradling their newest member. They watched him head slowly towards the pair’s den, all the while muttering gently to his friend. 

What they didn’t see was that Tugger had decided that no matter what happened, no matter what Quaxo needed, he was going to take care of the younger tom. Starting with nursing him back to health.

And then… 

Who knows?

But Tugger would be there. Always. 


	4. The Protector becomes the Protected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
...  
Okay right, excuses time ya'll.  
So 1. I was back at uni BUT i literaterally managed to right up half of this chapter like the same week I posted the last one? Awesome right??  
2\. Then i got a bunch of essays to do... so yeah... this went on the back burner  
3\. Top tip guys... be careful with fluids near laptops? Don't put a nearly full cup of tea down on an unstable surface (the bed you're sat on) then proceed to knock it down onto a macbook... thus causing it to become damaged and lose everything saved on it (included this work)  
4\. I got lucky that my birthday was on Black Friday and was only like 2 weeks after the previous incident so i bought myself a discount tablet as a present.  
5\. Every so often, got an email notifcations of kudos on this fic, refusing to let me foget about it 😆  
6\. Got more essays thus being too busy for this fic yet again.  
7\. Went into quarantine months later, did some more essays until I had no more uni work left to distract me  
8\. Literally spent like 2 hours rewriting then finishing this chapter 😅
> 
> So... I'd love to be able to say this will be updated really rapidly from now on but knowing me, I'll find another reason to procrastinate.  
Either way, enjoyyyyyy 😘

Misto sighed, swatting away the hovering hands.  
“Tugger, stop! I told you I’m fine!”  
The hands slowly retreated from their positions floating around the tuxedo cat’s waist, yet Tugger himself refused to take a step back and, if anything, he shuffled a little closer to his self-proclaimed ward.  
Mistoffolees sighed again. Tugger had been behaving this way since the whole ‘milk-scare-incident’. He had spent a few days nursing the younger cat back to health, sitting by his side, fetching him anything he called for in his croaky, exhausted voice - though different cats (namely the three younger Toms who got them into this mess) had to bring them food since the Maine Coon refused to leave the den for too long. He’d even taken to using parts of his own ratty blanket to mope the feverish sweat from the other’s once silky coat, then carefully climbing into the little cushioned nest to curl up with the other on the nights when the fever turned to chills.  
Quaxo couldn’t lie, he will forever be grateful. Being cared for was a new experience for him. He would never forget the feeling of waking distraught from a nightmare, shaking and sobbing, only to feel a gentle hand stroking down his back and looking up to see concerned eyes looking into his own. For the first time in his distressing life, he no longer felt alone.  
That didn’t make the mothering of his closest friend any less suffocating.  
In fact, this was the first day Tugger had even let him out of the den, finally bringing an end to the bedrest.  
Now, Misto was celebrating his newfound freedom with a casual wander around the yard, carefully scrambling over the occasional trash pile and just appreciating his newfound home. Tugger clearly didn’t think he was being casual or careful enough though, judging by his constant crowding and yet another panicked cry of-  
“Misto, watch out for… yeah, that one!”  
-when the tux went to put his foot on a piece of scrap and metal that wobbled slightly.  
Misto stopped and closed his eyes. He breathed a single sigh in an effort to stay calm. Nothing dangerous was going to happen. He turned to tell Tugger as much when there was a great crash, followed by a shrieking yowl that had both cats’ fur stood on end.  
They whirled around, eyes rapidly scouring the yard for the intrusion. It wasn’t long before a call arose, bouncing around the entire area. This was not the same wordless, fearful screech from earlier but rather the sound of order in the heart of chaos, a call of defence and a family banding together, looking out for each other.  
“Pollicle!” “There’s a pollicle in the yard!” “Find Munkustrap!” “Call the guardians of the tribe!”  
The two companions shared a brief glance before they frantically began scrambling down from the trash heap. They had no plan really. The kits were normally rounded up into Jenny’s den in case of an emergency so that sounded like a good place to start. Tugger was a fair fighter but wasn’t part of the tribe’s guardians like his brother, so he would gladly take his place defending those most vulnerable instead of hunting down the threat.  
What he wanted, however, clearly wasn’t the pollicle’s priority.  
They ran, paws swift and sure, ignoring the sliding metal and falling trash that scattered under their weight.  
The calls of the other cats continued and they caught the occasional flash of tail as the others scattered, each with a different role to fulfil, to protect.  
They made it to the clearing where Jenny’s den sat. The kittens weren’t visible, presumably hidden deep inside, but Skimbleshanks and Bomba restlessly paced outside the entrance. The two friends were met with a whirl of frantic energy when they reached the others. After being quickly looked over for injuries, despite continuous reassurances that they hadn’t yet seen the intruder, Bomba did not even pause before moving on to the next series of panicked questioning.  
“Where’s Jemima? Have you seen her? You have to have seen her!”  
“Jemima’s missing?” Quaxo’s concern was apparent despite having not known the young queen very long. One look at Tugger and the two of them took off. They didn’t go far, stayed within sight of the den, but climbed up the nearest heep for a better vantage point.  
They had barely reached the top before they stopped, spine straightened and ears twitching.  
A scream. Movement.  
They became nothing but a pair of dark blurs, one streaked with ginger and one with white, determined to reach Jemima and rescue her from whatever caused that piercing shriek.  
The pollicle was a beast. It stood in a clearing, every limb tensed to attack, jaws open and tongue slobbering. Its eyes blazed and its throat was wrought with alternating growls and barks.  
Little Jemima stood frozen before him, unable to make a sound after that single, terrified scream.  
Tugger hardly spared a second to think before he leapt down, right in the pollicle’s path. The maine coon was one of the biggest cats in the tribe. The monster may tower over him but he stood his ground, protecting the even smaller kit cowering behind him. Once he had blocked the pollicle’s view from its prey, he began slowly prowling sideways, all the while calling out mocking taunts.  
“Hey, over here! Look at me you slobbering beast.”  
Quaxo used the distraction his friend was making to slowly edge closer to Jemima. Tugger noticed the younger’s movement out of the corner of his eyes and made up his mind to ensure the pair would get the chance to escape. He turned back to the attacker, prepared to make yet another quip to keep its attention from the others, possibly some foul language regarding the pollicle’s mother, but it seems he wasn’t the only one to take advantage of a distraction.  
He had only glanced away from the dribbling jaws for a moment but that had been enough. He turned back just in time to smell that putrid breath, hear that rasping growl and see those yellow fangs lunge toward him.  
Quaxo, having made it to Jemima, was carefully ushering the tiny cat away, a difficult feat when she was all but frozen in fear, but he turned suddenly upon hearing a howl of pain. His eyes darted around as he assessed the situation. The two fiercer creatures were locked in battle, fur raised and eyes shining. The pollicle would leap, Tugger would dodge to the side then sweep sharpened claws at the other. The tux felt a piercing slash of grim satisfaction at the already-bleeding gashes on the beast's snout. But fear quickly overtook any other feeling. His friend was a strong fighter but there was only so much he could do alone.  
Sensing the severity of the situation, Quaxo made a sudden decision and grasped Jemima by the scruff, trying to be as gentle as possible despite the circumstances, then all but dragged her up the bordering piles of trash. He put her down and shook her till her big, round, glistening eyes met his.  
“Go, Jemima! Run! Get back to Jenny’s where it is safe!”  
The minute she took off on shaky paws, Misto whirled around and raced back to where Tugger still fought. He reached the site of the battle and could barely restrain a cry of desperation at what he saw. His friend was fighting valiantly. Tugger was dealing heavy blows upon the pollicle, defending himself and the tribe. But he was clearly growing tired and had suffered injuries himself. Both of them were circling around each other, blood matting fur and dripping from claws and jaws alike.  
Now it was Misto’s turn to act on instinct. He saw the battle, saw his friend’s wounds, and all he could feel was the weight of Tugger’s gentle paw stroking over his fur, tending him while he was ill. All he could hear was Tugger’s strong, reassuring voice standing up for the younger, accepting him as a member of the tribe. His friend, his protector needed his help.  
It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with; this overwhelming desire to see this person, someone he cared for, safe and well. His body was moving before he even realised. He watched Tugger stumble, half-collapsed on the ground. Then suddenly he was there, stood before his friend, mimicking the Maine Coon’s earlier position over Jemima. Quaxo wasn’t big. Quaxo wasn’t strong. But he had his magic.  
It wasn’t necessarily something he planned. One moment, he was watching a towering monster narrow its eyes towards him, clearly marking him as prey. A muffled groan came from his exhausted cat behind him. Then there was a flash, the sound of crackling filled the air, and Mistoffolees helped his friend the only way he knew how. Lightning ripped from his paws as he stood tall. He wasn’t actually aiming from the pollicle but he didn’t shy away either. The smell of singed fur began to drift through the area and the beast, startled by the banging and bright lights landing too close for comfort, spared one last look at the two felines before bolting. Misto hoped he would flee far, far from the junkyard and away from the precious Jellicles hidden there.  
Speaking of precious Jellicles, the little tom dropped to his knees quickly beside the larger, paws skimming over matted fur in an attempt to analyse the severity of the injuries. He was so focused on this task, so centred on mumbling rapid reassurances to Tugger, that he didn’t notice the figure approach behind him. It wasn’t until his friend went quiet and ceased his moaned complaints that he noticed the slightly dazed eyes had turned away from him to look past the tux’s shoulder.  
He froze. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly began to turn, wary of another potential attacker.  
When he saw who was behind him, however, he felt a full second of relief. There was a moment where he believed everything would be fine, that someone had come to help him care for Tugger and comfort the pair as they returned to the others. But then he noticed the look in the newcomer’s eyes. The curious way they tracked Quaxo’s paws, still tingling from the power, and swept over his coat, still shimmering from the spells. Oh. The relief left as quickly as it came and was replaced with fear. Fear that he would lose everything, the home, family, and friends he had only just found. Fear that he would be cast out by the very ones he had tried to protect.  
Because Skimbleshanks knew what he’d done. Skimbleshanks knew he had magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, like editing on this site (as in organising its presentation and stuff??) still scares me...  
I have no idea how to make it look good 😅


	5. When do we leave?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger's hurt. Misto's secret has been seen. Who know's what will happen next?! 
> 
> (I do.... Well... part of it anyways)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I've finished all my uni work  
Me: I'll be updating much more frequently!!  
Me: *blatently lies apparently*
> 
> Tbf it didn't take me mooonnnttthhhsss to update this time so that's an improvement. Escpecially considering the hellish time I had with some group projects, woo boi.

Surprisingly, the world did not suddenly cease moving, The skies did not turn grey and fill with thunder, and the ground did not open to swallow Mistoffolees whole. Instead, Skimbleshanks, after only a moment’s pause, moved past the little tom to kneel at the other side of Tugger. 

“You’ll be alright, lad.” Skimbleshanks gave a reassuring smile and gently ran his paws over the exhausted cat, looking for injuries. Seemingly deciding that the damage wasn’t too dire that the maine coon couldn’t be moved but serious enough that he’d definitely need a trip to Jenny’s as soon as possible, the scottish cat stood and turned that same smile on Quaxo. 

“Help me get him up, carefully now. There’s a good lad.”  
The tom stayed frozen for a moment in disbelief before another groan from his closest friend jolted him back to awareness. Trying to be as careful as possible, he wrapped Tugger’s arm over his shoulders and, on Skimble’s signal, he lifted the taller cat to his feet, trying to support as much of his weight as possible. Then, letting the oldest tom’s calming monologue wash over him, he helped carry Tugger to Jenny’s. 

***

“Lad?”   
The voice came behind him but Quaxo didn’t want to turn to face it. He couldn’t bear to take his eyes away from the sleeping figure before him. 

The irony wasn’t lost on him. It hadn’t been long since their positions were reversed; since he had been the one lying prone, weakened in bed whilst Tugger was forced to stand vigil by his side. He understood now, Quaxo thought, why Tugger had been so overbearing recently. It isn’t easy feeling this helpless. 

A hand on his shoulder startled him.   
“Can we talk, lad?”   
It filled his chest with a comforting warmth to be addressed so fondly. He wondered how long it would last.   
Without a word, he stood and followed the ginger tom out of the den.

The pair walked in silence for a while. Occasionally, they would pass other cats who would smile and greet them, trying to return the tribe to a state of normalcy.   
Eventually, they sat, side by side on a pile of rubber tires, warmed by the sun. They were far enough from the main clearing that this conversation would go unheard by any curious Jellicle ears.   
They waited a moment. Quaxo tensed as he heard Skimble inhale and braced himself for what he was about to hear; what he was about to answer. 

“So, I’ve been thinking long and hard about what I think I saw between you and that pollice.”   
Here it comes, the little tom curled over, trying to make himself even smaller, waiting to be told to leave, to be chased out of the closest thing to home he has ever known.   
“Could you tell me something? That was magic wasn’t it? What you were doing with the… paws waving around and the shiny lights?”   
It seemed the further tensing of his shoulders was all the answer the other needed. As awful as this conversation was, Quaxo couldn’t help but feel a pinch of relief that Skimble hadn’t made him talk yet, despite his obvious curiosity.   
“I’ve only ever seen one cat before with that kind of power.”   
The careful sideways glance and forcefully jovial tone showed that this statement was as much a question as the last and, whilst Quaxo suspected Skimble wouldn’t push him were he to answer with the same silence as before, he felt he owed the other tom more explanation. 

“I…” he took a moment to clear his throat and sort through his thoughts. “Macavity-… he is my father. But I swear I’m nothing like him! I hated it, growing up in his base, being taught how to hurt people like him then being hurt by his hench-cats when I refused. All I ever wanted was to get out; to have the chance to be free and live like any normal cat. When I found this tribe, I finally had that chance. Please… please don’t make me leave.”

He wasn’t facing the other cat, too busy reverting to his natural defence of looking as non-threatening as possible, a survival tactic he learnt growing up. If he’d actually made use of the other tactic which got him through his kittenhood - paying attention to his surroundings - he may not have jumped quite so much at the sudden feeling of weight settling around his shoulders. With wide, shining eyes, the little tuxedo followed the newly placed ginger-furred arm all the way up to a gently smiling face. 

***

Tugger hadn’t dreamt. Or rather, if he did dream, he didn’t remember it. Instead, there was only a heavy blackness then, suddenly, he was groaning and dragging his eyes open to the sight of the inside of Jenny’s cosy den: The healing room. But cats normally only woke up here when they were injured. So why…? 

Oh. There was the pain he’d forgotten about. The aching in his bones, the pulsing of his muscles and the twinge of every scratch and bite littered across his skin.  
The pollicle. 

He bolted upright as his memories returned, before immediately having to hunch over, gasping as pain flared up in his chest. He tried to ignore it, eyes moving wildly across the room. Misto had been there during the fight. Tugger had tried to protect him. But if Tugger was here then where was he? He had to find him, had to make sure he was safe. 

It was this manner of chaotic, barely awake thinking that led to the tuxedo in question bursting into the room moments later after hearing a thud only to find his friend collapsed on the floor, tangled in old blankets and pillows.   
“Tugger!” 

“Oh dear!” Jenny, having been talking to Quaxo outside and having also heard the suspicious thump, followed the younger tom in to see the state of her patient. Together, the pair of them managed to hoist the still confused tom back into the blanket nest and after some motherly fussing - during which Quaxo watched curiously, vaguely remembering being on the receiving end of such attention not so long ago - the older queen made Tugger promise to stay still and rest before bustling away again.   
In her absence, a heavy silence fell. Quaxo didn’t expect his friend to break it. He wasn’t even sure how aware the other was at that point. Slowly he sat down, gave a light sigh then turned to look at the maine coon. 

“Tugger? How are you feeling?”  
He realised that perhaps his friend wasn’t quite as dazed as he’d thought when he looked up to find a carefully assessing gaze scanning him from head to tail.

“You feel guilty about something. What is it? What happened?” With each question, Tugger’s tone became more frantic. By the time he had finished talking, Quaxo had to practically restrain him to stop him from charging out the den to face some unseen threat. 

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay, Tugger. Everyone is fine. You protected us.” He didn’t notice that the paws he had placed on his friend’s shoulders had begun soothingly stroking across his fur. 

“I don’t remember getting here. I was fighting the pollicle then… nothing. What really happened, Sparkles?” 

“I used my magic. You were hurt and I got worried, so I used my magic to scare it away.” He tried to keep his voice steady but his mind kept showing him the image of Tugger standing there between him and the threat, injured but still so protective. 

“Quax?” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to use your magic just because I was too weak. You could have been seen!” Tugger gave a sheepish, forced laugh. “Just think where we would be then.”   
Oh no. If there was one thing Mistoffolees wouldn’t stand for, it was words of self-deprecation from the strongest cat he knew. 

“Listen, Tuggs,” The maine coone couldn’t help but wonder if the tux realised the position they had found themselves in since the smaller had decided to lean over the other, a paw on either side of his head to force him to pay attention, “This wasn’t your fault. Without you there, Jemima could have been seriously hurt! I could have been hurt. You did the best you could and you saved us.” At this point it was the little tom’s turn to become sheepish. “And… about someone else finding out…” 

A moment of silence as he met the other’s gaze.   
“Who?”   
“Skimble.”   
“And?”   
“And what?”   
“When do we have to leave? Just give me some time to get my stuff then we’ll go. I know some places we might be able to stay safely. I won’t let your father’s men get anywhere near you, don’t worry.” 

Misto felt his heart ache at the sincerity in those words. It didn’t matter how many times the tribe showed that they actually cared, that he was accepted. It still shocked him every time. And none cared more than Tugger. They were still so new to each other, still barely known and yet he was willing to give up everything to keep them together. Misto let his arms collapse, dropping himself right onto Tugger. 

He pushed his head desperately, clumsily into the other cat’s neck to hide from the overwhelming emotions, nearly succeeding in bumping their heads together accidently. Such a sudden weight against his injured torso should probably have caused Tugger no small degree of pain but he was too busy focusing on the little cat to actually feel it. Instead, he brought one paw carefully up to gently rest against the back of the other’s head, holding him in place. Both of them took comfort from the contact.   
“Misto?” He didn’t break the embrace but he did need to know what caused this sudden reaction. 

“Tugger, we don’t have to leave. I told Skimble. I told him everything. But he understood! He still accepted me even though he knew where I came from.” At this point he moved back just enough to look up at the other with wide, glistening eyes. “I’m not ready to tell the rest of the tribe yet but he’s not going to make me leave. We’re not going anywhere.” With that, he lay back down, suddenly feeling exhausted and snuggled into the other’s fur. 

Tugger didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Instead, he held the other a little tighter with one paw whilst running the other through Misto’s fur as he felt the younger’s breathing begin to even out. He had been fully prepared to leave everything behind for this little tom. But he was glad he didn’t have to. Glad the other finally had a chance at having a loving home and family. Making the decision that he would always be around to protect his new friend, wherever or whenever that might be, Tugger too drifted off to sleep.


	6. Dancing and Danger

Tugger was happy. In fact, he could remember few moments in his life where he was as happy as this. Not that his life wasn’t usually quite pleasant. He is definitely comfortable with the tribe, but this kind of pure adoration was something he hadn’t felt since he was a kitten gazing up at his father, his brothers by his side. 

Ah, that’s it. It isn’t just happiness that he’s feeling. It’s love. 

That overwhelming lifting in his chest when he woke up to find a gentle pressure, a weight resting atop him? The music ringing through the air when he hears the soft breaths of the one he cares about at peace with the world? The golden haze that overtook everything when he looked down and saw those big beautiful eyes shining back at him? Love.   
Tugger knew with his whole being that he would do anything to ensure that the one who made him feel this way would get to share his joy and elation.   
Right now, ‘the one’ was making that easy for him, he thought, watching the little tuxedo cat. 

***

Quaxo was practically squirming with excitement. Every small scrap of information or mischievous little anecdote Tugger told him about the ball, only increased that feeling. He couldn’t remember any moments in his life where he was as happy as this. His life used to be quite unpleasant… though perhaps that was a bit of an understatement. But that didn’t matter now because he was comfortable in the tribe.... that was probably another understatement. He belonged. He belonged beside his Tugger and with the rest of the Jellicles. And now he was getting a chance to prove that and join them in the most important celebration they have. He wanted to know everything. Thank the Everlasting Cat that he had someone willing to indulge his every question. 

“So will you be performing too, Tugger?” 

“Well of course!” The Maine Coon couldn’t deny that he appreciated the awe-filled expression that this earned him. “Every cat worth knowing has their own song!” 

“Wait,” the wide eyes began to squint as a frown formed, “but you said that the whole celebration was about choosing a worthy cat for rebirth in the Heaviside Layer? Does… does that mean if you get chosen then you’re gonna leave?”

Oh.   
Oh no. 

Even the frown was better than the heartbroken look the little cat was giving Tugger now. Those eyes had widened again but the shine had gone from dazzling joy to unshed tears.   
This was going way too wrong, way too fast. This was the complete opposite of what he hoped to achieve. Time to get to work on that whole ‘make his dearest happy’ thing.   
Without wasting another moment, he drew the younger into his arms and held him tight to his chest. 

“Don’t worry, Sparkles.” Hooking his chin over the crown of Quaxo’s head, he began gently stroking his fur to soothe the distressed tension in the younger cat. “I’m not going anywhere. The Jellicle Ball is about more than just the Heaviside Layer. It’s about celebrating being together. The songs aren’t just for those wanting to be chosen. It’s a way for us to recognise those who are important to the tribe and what they’ve contributed to all our lives.” 

Together they sat a moment longer. Tugger felt no need to fill the silence when he noticed that Quaxo’s breaths had steadied and the reassurances were clearly successful in calming him. 

Eventually, the two pulled apart and the Maine Coon looked down to meet his dearest’s newly renewed gaze of joy.

“Tugger?” His voice was quiet, still hesitant to break the fragile peace they’d created. “I think one day I would like to have my own song at the ball.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a song, Quax. And it will be spectacular.” 

***

Quaxo realised a moment before the rest of the tribe. When one grows up having to face a certain person every day, when they are raised and forged by that person, they become accustomed to the specific energy that person emits. And when that person is the Napoleon of Crime, himself,then that energy is stronger and more distinct, than most. That’s why the tuxedo had frozen, fur puffed up and muscles tensed before the others had even sensed something was wrong. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The ball had been in full swing and going great. Quaxo was still riding the high of the overwhelming feeling of community that came from dancing in sync with the others. He’d even gotten to sing a little solo section inviting the others to the festivities, as suggested by Munkustrap - who had spent a long and stressful time organising the entire event - as a way to cement the newest member’s place. 

Then Old Deuteronomy himself had arrived! Of course, Quaxo had met him before, very briefly, when he first joined the tribe. Had the Jellicle leader not liked the young tom, if he had deemed him a threat to the rest of the cats, then Quaxo would have been forced out immediately. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Their leader was wise and kind but also very busy, hence why every moment spent with him was treated as a blessing. 

This was also why they put so much effort into their little production of ‘The Pekes and the Pollicles’ in order to honour him. Honestly, the little tuxedo thought, despite any slight… mishaps during said performance, he still considered it was amazing! And whilst Munk might not have appreciated Tugger’s little addition, Quaxo could barely keep himself from giggling. After all, it would have been hypocritical of him to complain since he gave himself a little addition in Tugger’s own song. He knew his friend wouldn’t mind, knew that he appreciated the joke. He just wanted to be a part of something that was important to the other and contribute to what the other called an ‘honouring’ of a cat’s life. 

So, yeah. It’d all been going so well and Quaxo had a great time dancing and singing with his new-found family. Then there had been a clattering from the trash surrounding the clearing, a flash of lightning, too bright and sharp against the soft moonlight. Quaxo wasn’t even there to watch their precious leader get taken, having scattered in the mad rush of the rest of the Jellicles. But he knew, as he crept back with his tail hung low, exactly who had committed the crime. 

Whilst the others began dashing around, directed by the carefully steady instructions of Munkustrap, Misto just sat staring at nothing. He was struck with the sudden ugly realisation that he didn’t know what to do or how to help. The cats causing all this destruction and fear were who he was raised by. Who he was raised to be. Yet the ones who felt that fear had made him feel more like himself than ever before. He wanted to help them but even now, the thought of going out there and facing the very cause of his pained kittenhood was too much. 

When he eventually plucked up the courage to creep away from his hiding place, there was only silence. He noticed, in his dazed state, other cats returning to the circle too. Blankly, he cast his eyes around in search of Tugger - he was sure the Maine Coon had been reaching for him at the beginning of the chaos but the pair had been torn apart when everyone scattered - and that was when he noticed Old Deuteronomy return. Immediately, the tribe began to gather around the big shaggy tom, without a moment’s hesitation, all whilst muttering gratefully to themselves. Deuteronomy was their blessed leader, the divine cat! If Macavity had him in his treacherous clutches then only the Eternal Cat knows what would happen! So, yes, their leader’s return was a miracle. One could even say it was too good to be true. 

It was probably wishful thinking, the desperation for the miracle to be true, that stopped him noticing that something was definitely wrong. He had unwittingly presumed that the bad feelings he sensed were just leftover tensions in the air from the scare only moments earlier. It really said something that Mistoffolees wasn’t the most paranoid cat in the tribe. 

Even when his father had revealed himself, Misto was frozen. He cowered back into an old piece of pipe, hiding from view but watching with shame as he was unable to help Munkustrap defend the tribe. He almost called out at one point, his worry overtaking his fear as he noticed Macavity enlist the help of his little mind-control tricks. But even without magic, their valiant protector was a formidable opponent and seemed to recognise the tricks quickly enough to break himself free each time. He was clawed at. He was thrown to the ground. He rose again. He fought back. And when he seemed to be slowing? When it seemed he might not win? The other cats stood their ground and joined the fight. Cats of all size and skill, even caring old Jellylorum got a few hits in.

It was only when Misto knew they would survive, when he could see Macavity turn to flee, that he was able to break free from his paralysed state. However, the little tuxedo cat didn’t run to where the others had begun to huddle together. Instead, he turned… and ran straight into the fluffy chest of his closest friend. 

“Sparkles! I’m so glad I found you!”

“Tugger, I’m sorry. It was a trap. They-... he-... Macavity took Old Deuteronomy. He took your father.”

“I know, Quax.” Tugger’s arms circled the smaller and drew him close. “But that’s not something for you to apologise for. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I should have done something, Tugger! I have magic and I know how Macavity fights. But I didn’t do anything. I just sat and watched whilst other cats- whilst your brother got hurt fighting.” 

“Hey, look at me.” A carefully placed paw under Misto’s chin tilted his face up until he was looking into Tugger’s eyes. “I don’t blame you for this. Nobody will blame you for this. But...,” There was a hopeful spark in his eyes, “you do have magic. Do you think there is something you can do, some way to bring him back to us?” 

“I’ve never tried before. I was only really taught how to use it for more… destructive purposes.” He maintained eye contact but his brow furrowed as he considered the suggestion. “I guess we won’t know if I can do it until I actually try?”

“Yes! I know you can do this! I have the utmost faith in you, Sparkles.”

“But, there’s just one problem,” Misto had to look away, overwhelmed by the pure emotion, the hope, in the Maine Coon’s expression. “The other Jellicles? We know how they feel about magic and Macavity was the one to cause this mess in the first place. How do we tell them about this without them rejecting the idea?” ‘Rejecting me’ he thought to himself. 

“Remember how you wanted your own Jellicle Ball song? Leave it to me, kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now even my technology is conspiring against me. I don't know why editing is so hard on my tablet but grammerly doesn't make it any easier. The minute I decided to post this, google drive froze then crashed 3 times in a row. Yayyy. But I still managed to post this within a month of the last chapter? well done me??   
It didn't go as well as I wanted and didn't progress plot wise as much either but I'll take what I can get :D


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